


it'Sal about answering that Q

by Tav



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tav/pseuds/Tav
Summary: Sal wakes up in bed with his worst nightmare.... and its not a cat...
Relationships: Brian "Q" Quinn/Sal Vulcano
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

It’s an odd sort of feeling, sharing the conflicting sensations of contentment while feeling nauseated at the same time. Sal guesses it dates back to childhood. The joy he got, skipping school, being sick in bed all day, yet having a cool cloth placed over his head served with a side of warm smiles and extra _you’ll feel better soons_. _I’m here for yous_. _You’re protecteds_.

It’s exactly what it is; Sal feels safe. For the first time in years, he feels as though he’s awakened in a ‘cat-less’ world. God knows he loves his friends to death too, but they intentionally give him equal, if not more anxiety on and off stage.

This.

This is a pure kind of pleasure devoid of any cameras and fans and self-inflicted humiliation.

He’s warm and wrapped in a shielding seal as of no one is supposed to know he’s there. It’s a secret heaven and the more he delves, the more its creator wraps him in. It’s pretty perfect.

It can’t be real.

Sal knows he must be dreaming, which is why he refuses to move. Normality can wait, the bile can wait, all can just accommodate a few more seconds of his blissful subconscious long enough for him to revel in the-

“Fuck me, what day is it,”…

Sal freezes. It takes a second longer than he’ll ever want to admit or acknowledge that he isn’t home. He drank too much and it isn’t a girl. It’s a hotel room and he’s in bed and Brian is the one who questioned the day.

He doesn’t have to turn to confirm. He can smell the cologne and knows the voice all too well. Like a man devoid of life yet having too much to live for. But he still won’t believe it until he turns around to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Sal is on his feet in seconds, across the room in less. He almost regrets taking the sheets with him because Quinn isn’t wearing a thing. But Sal is wrapped up and Q doesn’t matter because he’s not supposed to be there at all.

“Get out of my room!” Sal demands slowly.

“You’re in mine,” Brian laughs. And his joviality makes it seem as though this isn’t the end of the world, yet it is. Because Sal suddenly remembers kissing Quinn first.

Sal remembers shivering when Brain’s fingers grazed the nape of his neck. Their shared smiles had been different that night. That day. That week. The lingering looks and shoulder bumps had been too deliberate to be nothing. And so when they both laughed and Sal brought Brian down with him, he couldn’t help but kiss him. A fevered kiss brought on by years of suppression. Brian wasn’t supposed to kiss him back.

But he latched on, hands in Sal’s hair, tongue slipping between Sal’s lips. And Brian lifted them both up like he always does, but did two things differently. He pushed Sal up against the closest wall and asked Sal to come to his room.

Why did Sal comply?

“I shouldn’t be here,” words finally catch up to him and he begins to search the room for anything akin to what he could’ve been wearing.

“I have no regrets,” are the simple words whispered in his ear. They’re followed by a kiss just below it and an almost awkward hug from behind. It should be completely awkward yet the unapologetic hardness that presses up against him confuses Sal.

Sal knows he shouldn’t want to follow his friend into the bathroom. Even as the door shuts and the water starts running. He should run away. Hide. Possibly even change states.

But Brian has no regrets.

Sal follows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments. Apologies for the uneditedness!!!! Happy reading.

When Sal finally, albeit reluctantly enters the bathroom, Quinn’s back is to him. Sal had planned on sticking his head in solely to say _goodbye_ and _let’s pretend none of this ever happened_. But their eyes lock in the mirror. Steam from the hot water pouring in the unfairly luxurious shower is quickly fogging their reflections. But the foggy heat is nothing compared to the fire in Quinn’s eyes when he turns around after gargling and spitting. And Sal would usually find all of it disgusting, but even the trail of toothpaste sliding from the corner of Q’s mouth fails to repulse Sal. Sal wants to lick it clean.

Everything about this is completely impractical.

Sal had spent a full two minutes with his head against the door. He’d found a cent of sanity and was honestly ready to leave. But now being against the door for the second time that morning, he realizes how insane it would have been to not give in. Because Quinn is pressed up against him and it’s terribly clichéd yet entirely too arousing.

Quinn’s unshaven jaw is scratching Sal’s neck, Q’s fingers gripping his hips and Sal’s never been on this end of such passion. But without saying a word, Sal knows that Quinn is completely in control. And what scares Sal the most is how he’s not scared at all. It feels necessary, like quenching a thirst he never even knew he had up until that very moment.

Quinn’s lips feel magical against his skin, but Sal needs to taste that surprisingly talented mouth. So Sal grabs Q’s face in his shaky hands and pulls his friend into the type of kiss that hurts from both men’s desperation. And Sal knows that that is the point of no return. And both men’s large frames only make them push against each other all the more.

Sal’s eyes snap open when he feels Q’s hands explore the one place only his fingers have ever touched. The place he’s only ever toyed with on lonely nights when curiosity had gotten the better of him. But not even Sal had managed to make it feel that sexual. Feel that final. And Sal can feel the precum leak out and between them as Q’s finger pushes painfully against his body’s natural resistance. Then something comes to mind. There’s absolutely no way Q had been inside him the night before.

“Last night,” Sal hates how his own voice sounds. He hadn’t wanted to speak at all.

“Jesus Sal,” Quinn frowns, fingers still probing and it’s so distracting that Sal has to grip the taller man’s hand to halt the pleasurable intrusion. “I know I can be a total ass to you sometimes but I’d never take advantage of you.”

“So,” Sal shivers, his bottom lip between Quinn’s minty ones. “What exactly did happen?”

Then Q is smirking. It’s one Sal has never seen before. It can only be described as pornographic as his friend drops to his knees and takes Sal’s cock between his lips.

“Oh,” Sal doesn’t know if its acknowledgment the longer the word drags on. Because Quinn is way too good with his tongue for this to be the first time he’s knelt between another man’s legs. He can’t help but say _oh_ one more time and he doesn’t care how wanton he sounds in the foggy, tiled vicinity. 

“I never claimed I was a saint,” Quinn admits after pulling off and stroking Sal’s painfully hard erection instead. And Sal doesn’t remember placing his leg over Q’s shoulder, but he’s glad one of them had thought to guide it there because Sal would’ve certainly lost all balance by then. “Come get wet with me.”

“God, you need to watch better porn,” Sal critiques the all too familiar dorky side of his lifelong friend, even though he’s letting Q lead him to the shower. But as Q steps in and begins to adjust the heat, Sal can’t seem to get past those two words. Past the fact.

They’re _lifelong friends_.

They’ve been friends for thirty years, practically brothers after five. Q knows everything about Sal and Sal knows more about Quinn due to the taller man’s inability to censor himself. They’ve battled through high school together, laughing when most others cried. They’ve fought over the same girls and made up with the help of bad Indie Films and too many hot pockets. They’ve grown together, inadvertently playing bigger roles than either will admit to having in the shaping of the men they are today. But the sobering truth lies behind the fact that it isn’t just about them. It’s also about Joe and Murr and how this mistake could devastate everything the four of them have worked their whole lives for. The production team and their projects, their fans and their families. It’s about how many lives could be ruined by this selfish impulsiveness neither would’ve ever given into if it weren’t for too many shots and beers.

And so Sal numbly wraps himself in the first robe he blindly finds and escapes, a cruel and cowardly move he knows that Quinn will one day thank him for. Because above all the fame and grandeur he’s preserving, he’s mainly doing it to preserve their friendship. And Sal can only breathe again once the door is shut with the one thing he suddenly wants more than anything in the world on the other side of it.

He’ll tell Quinn he had his reasons.

And as if on cue, the main two of those reasons burst through the hotel room’s large front doors. Both men laughing juvenilely even though Sal feels the earth crumble beneath him. Joe is carrying Murr on his back and Murr is wearing an _honest-to-god_ propeller hat. And any other day, Sal would fall to the ground due to his inability to stay upright through uncontrollable laughter.

This is an altogether different reason that he might fall and never get up again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I promise this isn't gonna be angsty....but it's impossible not to have a touch of angst when writing Sal.... Come on, it's Sal. lol


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m sorry ma’am, I think we have the wrong room,” Joe says. And Joe’s eyes are cartoonishly wide in a way that only Joe can manage. He peeps back to recheck the number on the door. And when Joe looks back at Sal, his confusion is understandable because Sal is standing in Quinn’s hotel room wearing nothing but a robe. The fact that Sal gets Joe’s reference only after noticing that in his haste he’d accidentally picked a woman’s robe makes Joe’s attempt at humour no less unamusing. 

“What are you doing here?” they all would’ve said in perfect unison had Joe not purposefully shook Murr off his back, leaving the smallest of the gang too busy trying to stumble to his feet. 

“I-,” Sal says too quickly, trying to defend himself. But the focus is no longer on him at all as Joe hops onto the bed, laying there vacation-style. And Murr wastes no time taking revenge for his earlier fall by whacking Joe with the first pillow he finds on the ground. Then Sal quickly wonders what else they might find on the ground. His shirt? His pants? His underwear? No matter how frantically Sal looks around he can’t see a piece or his clothing in plain sight. “-asked you guys first.” 

“Well, while the rest of us were having fun,” Murr abandons his attack and lays on the bed with Joe. And it feels like a normal Saturday night back in high school. So why is he the only one freaking out? “He wanted to go to the arcade.”

“But they said no kids, no entry.” Joe continues and Sal is reminded of how they introduce every prank. Maybe they have been doing it for too long. 

“So we thought it would be funny to see if I could pass off as Joe Jnr.,” Murr spins the propeller on his stupid hat and god, Sal should be laughing. 

“Did it work?” 

“Am I in the arcade right now?” Joe actually sounds as though he’s disappointed an attempt so poor didn’t give desired results. Murr looks like many things. Tiny woodland creatures, mostly. The youngest of the four, unfairly so. But a kid – “your turn.” 

“Shampoo,” Sal doesn’t realize he was actually smiling at the thought until attention is back on him. And he’s grateful his eyes had found Quinn’s toiletry bag sitting open on a couch by the window during his earlier panic attach. Not like one could call the side of a duffel bag that, but it’s his temporary saviour. 

“Shampoo?” Murr raises both manicured brows. “I thought you said you’d rather use cat shampoo before ever touching Quinn’s”.

“He said cat urine-”

“Well I phoned the front desk and they had neither,” he doesn’t wait for a reaction before the bottle is in hand and he’s finding his way to the door.   
****  
And it feels like not a second later when he’s at courtyard. And the pool looks inviting enough to drown in. He’s been overthinking in the shower, but they are all there. There’s a man a few umbrellas over sitting in a suit and they’re daring Murr to say Like A Boss again. It’s warm and fun and lovely to look at. And Sal almost wants to join. But Q is chuckling behind shades. Even behind those glasses, Sal feels the glare. He cant look at him the same way. And he doubts the second he almost clumsily joins them that Q’s looking at that man either. 

“He lives,” Joe is the first to acknowledge Sal. 

“It’s alive,” Murr follows a second after.

“Need coffee?” Quinn says. 

Nothing has changed. Quinn is indifferent. It’s what Sal wanted.

Isn't it?


	5. Chapter 5

Australia was amazing. Every venue was packed. The tour was a success. Achieving international fame for being himself with his best friends leaves Sal with little to complain about, but he’ll never get over the annoyance of being trapped in a metal bird for over twenty hours straight. The promise of home is all that makes it even remotely bearable. 

Sal regrets not asking Murr for a Xanax _before_ his friend had passed out; knowing full well the little guy who hates flying the most is only sleeping peacefully due to popping two. His head has naturally fallen onto Joe’s shoulder along with one long string of drool and Sal once again finds himself hating Joe. Joe who can sleep through anything without any aid, snoring as quickly as a bird with a blanket over its cage. 

And then there’s Q.

Quinn is sleeping terribly over two seats in their private jet, but it’s nothing new. Q has always made Sal feel too uncomfortable to relax, too on edge to let his guard down entirely. It’s been one hour since leaving the hotel, five hours passing through clouds and Q hasn’t said more than five words to him. Not even when the pair found themselves riding in the same elevator on the mercilessly long and final trip down to the lobby, a trip Sal had tried to time perfectly so as to avoid that exact scenario. But the universe doesn’t much care for Sal’s plans. So Sal had tried to make the best of a prickly situation by making an offhanded comment about the weather and Quinn had looked at him. Sal didn’t even need to turn his head to know exactly what look was plastered on his friend’s face, and so Sal just didn’t look back at him and hasn’t until now. Now that it’s safe to stare at the frown lines on Q’s face. His un-brushed hair beneath a stupid barrette and his pink, parted lips. Hair he’s run his fingers through and lips he’s tasted. The man he almost slept with twice.

And Jesus Christ, when did Q become so handsome.

Sal has no idea if it’s the shorter hair or the fact that he’s suddenly dusted in silver. Perhaps it’s the fact that Q has traded his hideous Hawaiian button downs for suits and tighter jeans, a dirty sort of sophistication. Maybe it’s solely due to the fact that Sal suddenly knows what Q looks like naked, a sight that’s hardly new yet suddenly so impossibly different from when they’d whip each other with towels in the high school locker room or go streaking through their hometown streets on a dare.

He settles on insanity. Deliriousness brought on by vertigo. Simple side effects of being trapped in a plane with a hangover and mentally questionable friends. There just has to be a clinical explanation to all of this if Sal is honestly getting hard watching his friend sleep.

Sal gets up to wash his face, anything to temporarily distract himself long enough to get his feelings back in check. But as soon as he enters the tiny bathroom near the back of the plane, he’s pushed in almost violently. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind,” Sal nearly squeaks even before turning, because he doesn’t have to be face to face with his aggressor to now exactly who it is. Sal’s heart is instantly racing and for once it has nothing to do with his claustrophobia, even after Q shuts the door and locks it. Quinn’s hands on his shoulders, the shushes and whispers for Sal to relax have the exact opposite effect. “How the hell could you think that this is okay?”

“I just wanna talk to you,” both Q’s hands are up in defence, as if he knows touching Sal makes everything worse. “Preferably miles in the air where you can’t just run away from me like you did before.”

“Why are you doing this to me,” Sal states, because it isn’t a question. Because Sal feels defeated and guilty then immediately horrified when he remembers Q and him aren’t the only people in the world. “They’re right outside and-”

“And they’re not waking up any time soon,” Q interrupts somewhat convincingly, solely due to the certainty in his eyes. His voice. Everything about Quinn is so dangerously certain. “Just breathe.”

“I need to get out of here,” Sal is actually talking to himself since he’s always been the most sensible one of the four of them. Regardless of the fact that he’s convincing himself that there’s a parachute somewhere close by and he’s absolutely going to use it. But Q is blocking his only path to it. “Please, just get out of my way.” 

“I can’t,” Q shrugs, smirking too easily, “I’m in love with you.”

“No,” it must’ve been a full ten seconds of Sal just staring into Quinn’s eyes before his mind catches up enough for him to form words. “I can’t do this.”

And this time Sal doesn’t even have to ask Q to get out of his way as he pushes passed him. Unlocks the door. Comes face to face with cartoonish round eyes and badly spiked hair.

Sal just might jump out of the plane without the stupid parachute. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and the kudos and patience ...having such fun writing this next chapter...hopefully up before friday...its longer than the others and needs perfecting for reasons you'll see if you have a little faith in me. have a great one one all!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey All!!! 
> 
> I had to cut this chapter in three because it was just getting way too long.... Guys, this is unedited, please forgive me. Also, I'm writing NSFW at work LOLOLOL....so please just forgive my slowness.

If Sal is truly honest with himself, this isn’t the first time this has happened.

The first time was way back in 1991. Back when turtlenecks and Madonna were still cool. Back when they were nobody to the world yet everything to one another. It hadn’t taken long for them to master the art of humiliating each other. It was an instantaneous magnetism. A slip, a fall followed by four laughs then unconditional love.

To this day, Sal hates himself for being the slowest in the group to realize when the joke is on him. It often takes one of them losing their composure over Sal’s gullibility for him to realize that his cereal tastes awful because his soy was replaced with something white out of a camel that he can only pray is _at least_ milk. Or that the ominous cat mewing following him around all day is just an audio recording hidden deep in his backpack. Although Murr is undeniably the one they’ve pranked the most, Sal’s pranks have easily been the worst. Solely due to the fact that Sal is by far the most emotional. But the one prank that remains unforgettable and nearly unforgivable was the prank pulled by them on Sal on his sixteenth birthday.

Her name was Charlotte Kay Jones, but she only responded to Charlie. She was St. Joseph Hill Academy’s latest addition to their exchange student program and frankly, in Sal’s opinion, the most beautiful thing to come out of England. Unfortunately for Sal, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way as the fiery redhead easily became the object of desire amongst most of the boys at Monsignor Farrell High School.

Some claimed it was her accent while others were certain it was her eyes. The less polite boys spoke freely and in detail about what her fully developed curves did to and for them, while the nerdier ones were in awe by the way she could beat them all playing _Street Fighter_ at the arcade without batting an eyelash. A few of the jocks claimed they fell in love with Charlie the moment she side stepped their captain only to effortlessly sink a three-point field goal during a friendly basketball game at the park. But for most, her appeal would simply remain an enigma.

For Sal, it was different. And he was far too late anyway. Because Sal only really noticed how truly desirable she was the day he saw his friend’s arm around her shoulder. And although Quinn brushed off the envious masses, claiming that Charlie was more like a kid sister, it became shockingly clear that he was the only person genuinely oblivious to the fact that Charlie wanted so much more. While envy might have been the origin of Sal’s fascination, it quickly morphed into a bit of an obsession. A need to be close to her the way Q was, to hold her hand and kiss her forehead. To share one double-thick milkshake with two straws in the dark, cosy corner of the diner. To be the one she humorously tried to keep from falling on the skating rink, regardless of the fact that Sal could roller-skate circles around most.

On that particular Friday night in November, the desire was stronger, the bravery was borrowed and his entitlement felt infinite. Because Sal made a point of making it known that he always got what he wanted on his birthday.

They were playing seven minutes in heaven, and he was finally going to get his moment alone with Charlie. But someone else came into that blackened closet instead. Unbeknownst to Sal then, the plan was for him to wait for Charlie indefinitely as they all left the basement and proceeded with the party at the local bowling alley. They’ve always been lovingly, jokingly cruel to each other, but not so cruel as to leave a man without an out. Quinn was supposed to be that out. Q was supposed to stay and wait for Sal’s inevitable realization predictably followed by a meltdown. He was supposed to capture the moment on the analogue camera he’d clutched in his sweaty palms.

Instead, when everyone was gone and chuckles faded, Brian went into the closet.


End file.
